||[Oct. 15th, 2002|05:36 am]
|||||Pristine John's Song||]|
It's 5:30 AM, and my head is still swimming in dreams. They were so vivid last night...
Although chronology is impossible to sort out in dreams, I believe it began with Dillon, my horse (when I was 16). I was a messenger/scout serving the leader of an army, in a war between two medieval groups of people in a vast wilderness. At one point, my captain was nearly captured, but I was able to whistle Dillon over softly and we made our escape. With great gravity, he pronounced me a hero, and told me I would receive a commendation for this. Later, while he was leading troops in a diversionary tactic, I went to scout out the enemy's front line -- to figure out where they were, exactly. Unfortunately, they had advanced quietly during the night to the base of a waterfall I thought we still held, and even more unfortunately, a fool in motley joined me, thinking I was doing something fun (don't ask me what an army was doing with a fool in motley). Needless to say, the fool gave our position away, and I barely escaped by traversing the sharp rocks of the waterfall with great difficulty, then swimming up the backwater at the edge of the river. After I'd made my way back to camp that night, I walked off into the woods and softly whistled for Dillon, who'd made his own escape and came immediately. Then I was leaving, slipping off into the darkness; a young man or woman (I don't remember) who idolized me came to say goodbye, crying, but would keep the secret of my departure. Then there was just me, and Dillon, his breath soft in the silence, his hoofbeats muffled by the pine forest litter.
Next was a dream characterized by the feeling of "the beginning of an adventure" -- you know the feeling you get right before an exciting trip? I was part of a family that I think had been featured in a movie (something like "Father of the Bride", which I've actually never seen); One of my sisters was giving a baby up for adoption, because her husband was leaving her and she wanted to be free to start over. For some reason, my parents wanted me to adopt it, because they felt that family should do such things, and we should keep the infant in the family; I still felt that my sister's choice was not mine, and not my responsibility. However, I wasn't telling my parents this, as I didn't want to upset them ( I had told them before, and it had gotten ugly, and I didn't want to fight with them). Meanwhile, my husband and I were fulfilling a lifelong dream and selling our house to move to England. While I was on the phone with my parents, he was hammering a realty sign into the soil of the garden (it was a really lovely garden); when my parents asked what the noise was, I told them my husband was just putting something up in the garden. Then we were away! Tickets in hand, luggage packed, driving down our street and watching the familiar houses go past, with mounting excitement over the upcoming adventure we remembered to each other past events associated with each place. At one point, I was commenting on a really adorable kitty stretched over a neighbor's nut bucket (a permanent fixture in his front yard: a bucket of mixed nuts in the shell, planted in the ground), and the kitty ran and jumped up into the back of the car and purred all over us. Petting the cat, I gently returned him to his yard.
On the way out, we went to a convention -- something like a cross between one of the science fiction conventions I used to attend and MacWorld. The convention was held right in the airport -- I've dreamed of this airport before. It's really highly-stylized, with swooping architecture -- very futuristic. In any case, I was leaning over a counter, congratulating someone who had just successfully translated a piece of software into the OS X format, and had done a really superlative job; I suggested his tag line be "ROM done right", which he loved. I was drinking one of his sparkling ciders (in celebration, he was giving away drinks); he loaded me down with several more, as he wanted to use the quote.
Laden with drinks, I went off to listen to a performer in another room -- Pristine John, a singer with a piano. I woke up with the song he was singing in my head, and can still hear it. It was beautiful.
Getting up, I heard a water sound from the kitchen; fearing a leaky sink, I instead discovered a gecko in my dishwater. I rescued him and put him out on the porch; he ran off into the darkness. I wonder how he got in? No insects in here for him to eat, anyway.
I guess I'll make breakfast and go to school; maybe I can get some histology review done before class starts.